


Peter Ships the HELL out of Stucky

by JunoSteelOwnsMyHeart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, i love these dumbass men so much, its gay, its real gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:53:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunoSteelOwnsMyHeart/pseuds/JunoSteelOwnsMyHeart
Summary: In conclusion: EVERYONE LIVESthere's a little continuity error in that Peter was talking to Tony in his lab and then was in Wakanda, so for the purpose of not driving myself crazy, let's say there's a time gap there.Basically, Peter gets it into his head that Bucky Barnes is in love with Captain America. And then he does everything in his power to make them a couple.





	Peter Ships the HELL out of Stucky

It starts after another war - because half the world had just been  **gone** , because Bucky had been gone, and it had been a war. It starts when he’s back at Avenger’s home base, not living there, just popping by for a meeting and a lunch and to check on Nat, who took a bullet. Again. 

 

It starts when he hears Tony ask, with unusual lightness in his voice, “So how was your date?” 

 

And when a laughing teenage answers, without missing a beat, “I’m not sure it was a date. And even if it was, Mr. Stark, he’s not really my type. Cute, though.”

 

And then Tony asks, “Then what is your type, kid? Because I can’t keep getting new lab assistants every other week.” And he hears the teenager shove Tony, laugh, and then he answers, in a voice so quiet and wistful that Steve recognizes it in an instant. 

 

Peter says, “I’m not sure, exactly,” and they all know it’s a lie. 

 

Steve, who doesn’t know the kid, who isn’t even really in the room, knows that it’s a lie. Because he knows that tone of voice. He’s heard that tone of voice, and he’s used that voice. He’s been using that voice since the ’30s. And he’s heard it, too, spoken into the darkness of night after five too many drinks. 

 

Bucky said those four words to him, once, Steve remembers. And then, before it can rise, he shoves the rest of the memory away. 

 

Steve turns on his heel, stalking down the corridor, determined to find Nat in this maze, to check on her before he leaves, and almost more determined to leave the hidden lab he hadn’t known about deep in the labyrinth of the complex. Buried deep, deeper than ice, in a century’s worth of memories. 

 

*

 

He had, without any preamble, become friends with the spider boy. Bucky wasn’t sure how it had happened. He had been visiting Wakanda, in the lab with Shuri, and the boy had simply strolled in. They knew each other, Peter and Shuri, and they chatted about this and that, beyond his limited understanding of 21st-century technology. 

 

But the moment the boy had looked at him, he had grinned. Bucky had grinned back, not even quite sure why. Peter’s smile was, he decided, contagious. 

 

Later, Peter had found him sitting on a low cliff, watching the sunset. 

 

“You know, they say these are the most beautiful sunsets in the world,” Bucky offered by way of greeting. 

 

Peter shrugged. “Maybe. But I like the ones in Queens better. It’s pretty, but it’s not home.” 

 

And Bucky found himself smiling again. 

 

Peter pulled himself over the edge of the cliff, bouncing back to standing. “Can I sit?”

 

He nodded, gesturing to the grass beside him. 

 

Peter dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. “I feel like I know you.” 

 

“Oh?”

 

“We learned about you in history classes. Captain America and Bucky Barnes. Everyone wanted to be Cap, and we spent weeks playing Howling Commandos at recess when we first heard your story. But I always liked you better.” 

 

Bucky looked at the kid, who was stretched out in the grass, relaxed as he could be. He took a deep breath. “Why?”

 

“You were more real, y’know? Like Cap is crazy cool - and weirdly chill - but he’s like, this impossible human. Like Mr. Stark. It feels surreal to stand near him. You never seemed like that. You’re more grounded, down to earth. Plus, you’re definitely a Hufflepuff.” 

 

“What the  **hell** is a Hufflepuff?”

 

Peter cracked up. When he could breathe again, he said, between gasps of laughter, “It’s a fictional house, from a book. But basically, a Hufflepuff is someone who’s brave, and kind, a loyal and sweet and you can put him through hell and back without complaint, but man, if you mess with his friends, you’re dead meat. I’m a ‘Puff too.” 

 

Bucky nodded. “Is that why you liked me?”

 

The smile melted from his face. “I thought you were a cool guy, yeah. But then I decided to do a research project on you last year. And I ran a mass file search for your name in a bunch of databases. I thought it would just compile the information for me easier.” 

 

He nodded. Thought he understood. “And?”

 

“And it found something weird in the Smithsonian databases. Digitized letters that weren’t on display. Not technically hidden, but hard to find. It took days to find the uncensored versions.” 

 

Bucky thought he felt himself getting paler. He forced his hands - both of them - to slowly uncurl. “Which letters did you find?”   
  


Peter smiled. “The real ones.” 

 

Before he finished speaking, Bucky was up and walking away. 

 

“Mr. Barnes, wait!” And then the kid was in his way, tiny hands on his shoulders. “Please wait.” 

 

He raised an eyebrow. Didn’t want to hurt this kid who, somehow, he had been told, had fought with them. 

 

“I liked you better because I thought you were just a good guy who deserved a better ending. But then I realized, you’re like me. You’re so much like me. And it wasn’t until I read all your letters and did a bunch more research that I realized what I was. What you are.”

 

“And what,” he spoke deliberately, trying to control his panic, “is that?”

 

“Have you ever heard the term bisexual before?”

 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Bucky shook his head. “You’re like me?”

 

And Peter smiled again, a hopeful little grin, and Bucky had a feeling that, whether he wanted one or not, he had just made a friend in the Spider-boy. 

 

*

Steve Rogers wanted a nap. Hell, he wouldn’t have minded a few years on ice, either. 

 

He was glad to be here, and to be alive. Without a doubt. But God, the 21st century was exhausting. 

 

Half the world had survived the first time, and they wanted to shower him in affection for bringing back their loved ones. And half the world had gotten dusted, and their return, in their eyes, fell on him. Him, and the other Avengers. So walking through Brooklyn, even near sunrise, was damn near impossible without being recognized. 

 

On some half-buried instinct, he ducked into an alleyway, taking a few turns before he realized where he was. Another half block, and there it stood, some impossible relic from the past that should never have survived. But there it was. 

 

His apartment building. Bucky’s apartment building. Still alive too, after all these years, like maybe she was still waiting for them, the boys who had lived there so so long ago, to come home from their war. Their  _ wars _ . He smiled at the thought. 

 

And then he grinned because even Captain America knew enough about this century to know what the sign in the front yard meant. What those seven capital letters and phone number were telling him. So he memorized the ten digits and half ran back to his place, still grinning madly. Not caring anymore if people noticed him. 

 

Steve had a call or two to make. 

 

*

 

“Hello?”

 

“Robert?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“My name is Steve Rogers. I happened to see that an apartment building of yours is for sale. I was wondering if anything has been finalized yet.” 

 

“Oh no! Sir! It’s an honor, really, I know the history of the building and - Captain I have to say -”

 

“Steve.” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m calling you as a citizen, Robert. One man to another. I’m Steve.” 

 

“Yes, Sir. I mean, Steve.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, narrowly avoiding sighing at Natasha, who was laughing from the seat beside him. “I was wondering if I could come by and see the building?”

 

“Any time you like, sir-Steve.”

 

“Progress,” Nat whispered. Steve shook his head at her. 

 

“Would this afternoon suit? Perhaps we could discuss business over a coffee afterward?” 

 

“Of course. Whatever I can do, sir.” 

 

Steve gave up on correcting the man. “I’ll see you at 2 pm, then, Robert.” 

 

“You got it. Steve.” 

 

Before he hung up, Steve heard a distant voice shout,  _ Who was that? _ And a man, probably Robert, shout back,  _ You’ll think I’m crazy. But it was fucking - !! _

 

The call cut out. 

 

Nat smiled. “You taking him out on a date?”

 

Steve shook his head. “Just manners, Natasha.”

 

“Not in 2019, Stevie.” 

 

He leveled a gaze at her. “Nope.” 

 

“Stevieeee.” 

 

“You are not going to call me that.” 

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” Something in his tone told her not to push it. 

 

She shrugged. “Ok, Grandpa.” 

 

He could take Grandpa. Just not Stevie. Not from her. 

 

***

“So when was the last time you saw him?”

 

“What?”

 

“Captain America.”

 

“You know you’re an Avenger, right? You’re allowed to call him Steve.” The kid would just start conversations like this - no interlude, no preamble, and Bucky had gotten used to it. 

 

He shrugged. “It’s weird, Mr. Barnes.” 

 

“Peter…” 

 

“Sorry.” 

 

Bucky sighed. Rolled his eyes at the ceiling, where Peter was standing, fiddling with some panel of tech. In Shuri’s words, “ _ I could get up there and fix it but you’re sticky, and probably won’t catch my house on fire, so you’re gonna do it.”  _ He still wasn’t sure how he had gotten roped in, but he thought he was supposed to catch the kid if he fell. Tony would probably kill him if he let the kid fall on his head. Probably, in this case, means definitely actually and most likely more than once. 

 

“What was the question?”

 

“When was the last time you saw… him?”

 

Bucky had to think. “Not sure.” It had been 27 days since Steve had had to get back to America to deal with the press and the world leaders clamoring for answers. He’d been in Wakanda for three days before that. 

 

“Lie.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Peter shrugged, as much as you can shrug when you’re hanging by your feet from the ceiling. “Spidey senses?” And then, a heartbeat later: “We need a better name for that.” 

 

“Probably.” 

 

“How long?”

 

“27 days, I think.” 

 

He had a feeling the spider-boy rolled his eyes, but Bucky chose not to look. “Why didn’t you go with him? I mean, I know why I’m here because it’s the best tech in the world, and also Mr. Stark said I need to stay out of the public eye for a bit while things cool off, but why are you here?”

 

“Legally dead? Super soldier? Super-assassin? Wanted in most countries, including America? Pick a reason, kid.” 

 

“You know The Avengers ™ could fix that in like... Two days.” 

 

Deciding to ignore the fact that Peter had just spoken a trademark, Bucky muttered something that sounded like, “I don’t need Tony’s favors.” Peter didn’t care. He wasn’t calling Mr. Stark. 

 

*

 

“ мама паук?”  _ (Momma Spider?) _

 

“маленький паук!”  _ (Little Spider!)  _ “What do you need, kid?”

 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

 

“Dead?”

 

“Aunt Nat!” Peter still wasn’t sure when that habit had started. It just sorta… had. They had met in passing, fought some intergalactic battles, and when it was all over, she had sat him down and declared him the little spider, the  _ маленький паук _ , and then taught him how to say “momma spider” until his Russian sounded exactly like hers. Another few days stuck together while Fury and Tony dealt with the world, and she had declared herself Aunt Nat. Peter’s tendency to befriend super-assassins, he reflected, was a little worrisome. “No!!”

 

“Fine. I like him enough to let him live.” 

 

Peter sighed. “I feel bad for him.” 

 

Her skepticism didn’t need to be verbalized. 

 

“Fine. You’ve seen the letters.” He didn’t need to ask. She’d seen everything about anyone you could care to name. “He gets all sad and weird every time Cap comes up. Like Mr. Stark when Ms. Pepper is away on a business trip.”

 

“And you want me to get involved in 70-year-old drama?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Call Clint. He can take care of it.” 

 

“He’s out of range. I tried him first.” 

 

“After everything I’ve done for you?”

 

Peter chuckled a little. “Please, Aunt Nat?”

 

“I’m going to throw another moon at Tony.”

 

“What for?”

 

“Adopting you. You’re ruining my reputation,  _ маленький паук _ .” 

 

The call cut out, and Peter grinned. Mission accomplished. 

 

**

 

“Steve?”   
  


“Hey, Buck. How do you feel about coming stateside for a bit?”

 

“Thought I was wanted?” 

 

“I took care of it. Come home, Bucky. You don’t have to stay. I got something to show you, though.” 

 

“Course, Steve.” 

 

He had no idea what the hell the kid had done, but it was still one of the best phone calls he had ever gotten. And he would chew Peter out for it later. But when they had arranged all the details, when he said goodbye, he still slipped. 

 

When Steve smiled and said, “See you soon, Buck,” he had still slipped. 

 

Because he answered, “Later, Stevie.” 

 

**

“Can I take this thing off yet?”

 

“One more block?”

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“C’mon, Buck, let me have some surprises.” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be running SHIELD or some shit?”

 

“I took a day off.” 

 

“You can do that?”

 

“I’m Captain America. I can do what I want.” 

 

“Punk.” 

 

“Jerk.” He could tell Steve was smiling next to him. 

 

“We’re here.” 

 

Bucky tugged off the blindfold, and it took him a moment to recognize where they were. 

 

“Is that?”

 

“Yep.”

 

And then he noticed the bright red S-O-L-D splashed over the sign. “You?”

 

Steve grinned. “Yep.” 

 

“Steve, are you serious?”

 

Out of the pocket of his hoodie - which had the most ridiculous cartoon of Iron Man splashed across the front - Steve pulled something metallic. He tossed the keys to Bucky. 

 

Bucky smiled, too. “Punk.” 

 

Side by side, even though they were too tall and too wide to fit through the door frame together like they used to, they walked into their old home. Into the apartment building, they had lived in for what was it? A year? Two? Before Bucky had been deployed?

 

“Closer to a year and a half.” 

 

“What have I said about reading my mind?”

 

“Nothing this century,” Steve told him, climbing the stairs. Bucky couldn’t decide if it was annoying or heartbreaking. 

 

Nothing, besides the exterior walls and the stairs, was the same. The windows had been replaced half a dozen times, the floors gutted two or three times. Each apartment was different, bigger and more spacious now than they had been. Still, it felt like coming home. The walls, the stairs, were still the same. 

 

It took them a half hour of memories and stupid comments to make it to the roof access. The door swung open with a scream that made them both wince. 

 

“That definitely hasn’t been replaced since ‘35.” 

 

Steve chuckled, but as he swung the door closed, it became a long, loud, laugh. 

 

“What?”

 

“‘Buck + Connie; ‘41’. It’s still carved into the wall.” 

 

Bucky turned, and there it was, carved in rough letters next to the doorframe. “I guess they really never replaced it.” 

 

“I guess not.” Something in his voice sounded sad. 

 

“You good, Stevie?” 

 

“Yeah. Course. You?”

 

Bucky nodded, and leaned against the low wall with him, staring out over the city. “Hangin’ in there.” 

 

“It’s so different, isn’t it?”

 

“Looks pretty much the same to me. Big buildings, small people. Lotta fights to fight, lotta wrongs to right, all that.” 

 

“Our fight is over, Buck. At least mine is. World ending crises aside, of course.” 

 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

 

“Everything I never thought I would see is here. Howard’s son makes flying robots, we’re alive, most everyone has equal rights. Gays can marry, kids can be ‘bi’.”

 

“So the spider-kid got to you, too, huh?”

 

Steve offered a small smile. “Yeah. I was afraid…” 

 

“Afraid I wouldn’t remember?” 

 

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I guess I was.” And then it was a long moment before he found the courage to ask, “You remember?”

 

Bucky smiled. “What am I remembering? Sharing an apartment with you? New York in 1930? My best friend who couldn’t walk away from a fight? Or do you want me to remember never telling you I love you? How terrified I was each winter that this one would be cold you couldn’t shake? Sitting on this roof, watching the stars, scared to touch you, to look at you for too long? The night I got drafted, standing here, finding you up here, having to tell you I was leaving? Telling you, finally, what I felt and wanted and knew I could never have? And then finding us dates the next day with a dame who I’d ignored for months? Do you want me to remember that, Stevie?” He had started smiling, but now he was just frustrated - 80 years of repressed emotion boiling over.

 

He hung his head, sighing. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

 

Bucky’s voice was gentle when he answered. “Then yes. I remember.” 

 

“I want that, too.” 

 

“What?”

 

“That’s what I should have said to you 70 years ago, Buck, on this roof. I wanted that, too, and I didn’t say a word.” 

 

He nodded. “I know.” 

 

They came to the conclusion without saying another word, without having to talk about it any more than they had. They had always been a little bit like that - just a little bit psychic. 

 

“We’re gonna do this, Stevie?”

 

“We’re gonna try.” 

 

The last pieces clicked together in Bucky’s mind. “So basically, we owe this to Stark’s son’s intern-turned-Avenger?”

 

“I think that’s one way to put it.”

 

“You got a better way, punk?”

 

Steve laughed, just a little. “Jerk.” 

 

And then he kissed Bucky, lightly, but on the lips, the way they wouldn’t have dared to kiss 70 years ago. When he pulled away - it could have been seconds later, it could have been minutes - Bucky was smiling in a soft sort of way Steve hadn’t seen since before the war. Since before their  _ first  _ war. 

 

“Welcome home, Buck.” 

 

“It’s good to be home, Stevie.” He leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder (and the fact that his little Stevie was taller than him now was weirder than Bucky would like to admit), and let out a deep breath. “It’s good to be home.” 

 

They stayed that way a long time, long enough that they ended up watching the sun slowly set over Brooklyn. And Bucky thought that maybe the kid was right. 

 

The sunsets really were better when you were home.


End file.
